As the eighth of nine surviving children in a working-class Quebecois rural family, Jean Chretien grew up with facial paralysis, a form of dyslexia and partial deafness.
So determined was he to get his way, he once pretended to have appendicitis just to get out of a boarding school he loathed, taking his mock pain all the way to the operating table.
From a youth of brawling, Chretien graduated from law school and then began a 40-year career in the House of Commons at the age of 29, barely speaking a word of English. His English is still halting (he is not eloquent in French either), but his folksiness has given him a reservoir of popularity through a series of scandals and a nearly disastrous defeat in 1995 when Quebec almost voted to separate from Canada.
"A few votes the other way and he may have gone down in history as one of the worst prime ministers," said Lawrence Martin, his biographer. Martin concluded that while Chretien never had a commanding vision for Canada, "he was a triumph of instincts."
Chretien long governed in the shadow of the two modern Liberal giants, Lester Pearson and Pierre Trudeau, and only 18 months ago his government appeared to be sputtering badly. Several senior aides were forced to resign in scandal. Martin's plotting to take over the Liberal Party led to a nasty break between the two, and a near open rebellion in the Liberal parliamentary ranks.
Ever the stubborn street fighter, Chretien counterattacked with bold moves that left his opponents dazzled, including successfully pushing for ratification of the Kyoto climate control accord and increasing outlays on social programs.
He says he will now go back to work as a lawyer, and just maybe learn to cook a few more dishes than spaghetti. He will certainly play a lot of golf as well, although he says he avoids playing with millionaires who talk about their wives' US$15,000 dresses. "That bores me," he said with a giggle.
Chretien winced when reminded that a Canadian bishop suggested he was risking the fires of hell by deciding not to appeal an Ontario court decision extending marriage rights to gays and lesbians.
"God and I will decide that," he said with a guffaw and a tight smile. Then quickly correcting himself to appear a tad more modest, he added, "We'll discuss and He will decide."



